


Mantiskit & Cricketkit

by thesoulpvnk



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Death, Gen, Greencough, Grief, Kit/Child death, Mourning, The Long Leaf-bare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulpvnk/pseuds/thesoulpvnk
Summary: Dappletail and her kits catch Greencough in the dead of winter.





	Mantiskit & Cricketkit

“Please eat, Dappletail.. If not for you, for your kits?”

Dappletail prodded at the scrawny mouse that Willowpelt had left by her paws. She had no appetite, and the sad piece of prey looked disgusting. It was about as small and pathetic as the little scraps of fur that were suckling at her belly.

The tortoiseshell she-cat sniffled, setting her head between her paws. “I’m not hungry.”

“Your kits are.” Willowpelt retorted.

Dappletail didn’t get the chance to grumble out a response; Greykit and Cinderkit came tumbling from the outside of the nursery, crashing into the old queen’s side. She let out a hiss of annoyance.

“Be careful!”

“Sorry, Dappletail.” Cinderkit blurted, Greykit looking to their mother, Willowpelt, for validation.

“Please watch where you’re playing. You two don’t realize how big you’ve gotten!” The pale grey she-cat meowed. “You’ll be apprentices soon. Do you want your ceremony to be postponed for getting into trouble, do you?”

“ _No._ ” Greykit and and Cinderkit said, in unison.

Dappletail turned away, a scowl on her face. Her heart was heavy with the thought of her own kit’s, and their apprentice ceremonies - if they would ever have any. There was so little food.. It was hard to imagine she’d ever be scolding her kits for annoying the elders or grooming their fur for their apprentice ceremonies. As the days past, she was even coming to regret even naming the two kits.

Cricketkit was a tom, deaf, with a snow white fur and blue eyes.. Mantiskit was the older one, a she-cat who looked exactly like her late father, Stormtail, only with Dappletail’s own warm amber eyes. They looked like nothing more than pathetic scraps of fur at just a moon. But Dappletail loved them both with all of her heart.

.. Stormtail. The blue-grey tom had died just half a moon ago, ripped apart by a fox just as desperate for food as the clan cats were. There wasn’t even a body to bury. He had gone out at sunhigh with Bluestar - his daughter from a much earlier litter - and never returned. Bluestar had been the one, rushing into camp with horrific scratches and bitemarks covering her pelt.

“ _I tried to fight it, but-”_ She had said, “ _It was too fast.. I was too late_..”

Dappletail and her were the only ones left to mourn; but even Bluestar had been at odds with her father for a long while. Another cat would die and everyone would be left to move on. _Except.. me_.

“I-I’m so sorry, Dappletail-” Spottedleaf stammered, “Mantiskit and Cricketkit have contracted greencough, too.”

A cough wracked the old she-cat’s body as she looked to the medicine cat in disbelief. “But, you said-”

“They must have caught it before you were quarantined.” Spottedleaf had her head hung low, and she refused to meet Dappletail’s harsh gaze. It was hard not to blame the molly.. But it wasn’t her fault. Featherwhisker, Spottedleaf’s late mentor, had passed away not long ago. To lose a mentor, and have the sole burden of the duties of a medicine cat put upon you? Not to mention, in such a harsh, unforgiving time.. “I’m so sorry.”

“Catmint. You have some, don’t you?” Dappletail snapped, “Give Mantiskit and Cricketkit some. We three are the only ones left with greencough. Heal them. Do your job.”

“T-That’s the thing, Dappletail.. There’s not enough left for all of you..”

“Fine, then- Give it to my kits. I don’t care if I have to die. Cure them, not me.

“Enough to _cure_ one of you, that is-” Spottedleaf sighed, her voice shaking with guilt, and pity. “I could give you each a dose, and it might help, but not _cure-”_

“Split it and give it to my-” Dappletail was cut off again as she began to cough - violent, painful coughs that shook her entire frame.

Spottedleaf rushed into the depths of her den, coming back moments later with two leaves and a small portion of honeycomb in her jaws. She placed the bundle by Dappletail’s paws. “Eat this - and lap at the honeycomb. They’ll help with your throat.”

“Save them for-”

“I’ve already given your kits the same herbs, Dappletail. It’ll help ease their pain, but.. They’re so frail already..”

“Give them the catmint.” The molly interrupted. “Split it between them. It’ll help them, won’t it? Even if it’s not the full dose?”

“In theory, y-yes..”

“Then do it.” Dappletail wheezed. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about my kits.”

\- - 

In a just a few sunrises, Dappletail’s greencough had cleared up, and Spottedleaf had told her she was welcome to go back to the nursery, but she had refused, rather opting to stay with Cricketkit and Mantiskit in the medicine den. She didn’t care if she caught the infection from them. She just wanted to stay with her kits, and keep them safe and warm at her belly. They’d both been given a portion of catmint, and other herbs and honey to soothe their throats.

But that morning, when Dappletail woke, things felt.. Different. Cold. Not the kind of frosty cold only caused by the dead winter, but the empty, dull cold that filled your heart and head with dread.

She had a horrible feeling that she knew what the problem was, but she didn’t want to confirm her suspicions. But.. It was hard to ignore that her kits were no longer moving, no longer mewling for milk like they usually would in the morning.

“Mantiskit?” Dappletail whispered. She moved her back paw to gently nudge the unmoving she-cat. Mantiskit’s pelt was cold, and hard, and unmoving. “Please wake up.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her gaze turned towards Cricketkit. She prodded him softly with a paw, and found him in the same condition as Mantiskit.

Both of her kits had died in the night.

Feeling utterly empty and defeated, Dappletail wrapped herself protectively around the cold, tiny bodies of her kits, and silently began to weep.

 

No matter how many flowers adorned their bodies, or the amount of mint and rosemary that tried to mask the scent of death, Dappletail saw through it. Cricketkit and Mantiskit weren’t the first cats to die in the Long Leaf-Bare. Not even the first kits to die. And they certainly wouldn’t be the last ones to join StarClan before the warm season began.

She sat in vigil for her kits in the pale moonlight, her older brother Thrushpelt, and her foster sisters Speckletail and One-eye beside her. And when the morning came, the three of time dug the kits’ grave, while Dappletail spent as much time with her son and her daughter as she could.

They would never have an apprentice ceremony. Never have warrior names. Never grow old and become elders, never take mates and have kits of their own. Their memory would die away with her, just like her mother’s, and her father’s, and her brother’s and Stormtail’s.

-

A moon later, as the snow was melting, and fresh buds were beginning to grow on the trees, two kits were found, abandoned in a tree hollow. Thrushpelt and his son, Tansypaw, had been off together on a hunting patrol when they found the pair. A black and white patched tom, and a spotted tabby she-cat.

 

“They were cold when we found them.” Thrushpelt reported. Bluestar laid atop the Highrock, looking down at the pale brown tom. “No scent of any molly. Their mother must have abandoned them..”

Bluestar’s eyes looked hollow, as if she was being brought back to a distant memory; but her steady, firm voice didn’t betray her thoughts. “I’m always looking for warriors, especially after the harsh Leaf-bare we’ve gone through. The kits will stay.” She scanned the crowd of cats gathered before her, her gaze falling to Dappletail, lying at the entrance of the elder’s den. “Dappletail. Since your milk has yet to dry up, you will nurse these kits.”

Eyes widening, the tortoiseshell she-cat rose to her paws, as quickly as her old bones would allow. “Bluestar, I-”

“They’ll die without milk.” Bluestar insisted.

Feeling as if the whole clan was watching her, Dappletail gave one nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. The deaths of Cricketkit and Mantiskit were still weighing heavily on her shoulders, and over her heart. These kits wouldn’t replace her and Stormtail’s children.

 

The nursery was full, alive with the gossip of queens and the mewling of kits. Greykit, and Cinderkit were almost the size of apprentices, and Frostfur had joined the other queens as well, heavily pregnant with Lionheart’s kits. Dustkit and Sandkit had become Dustpaw and Sandpaw, leaving enough space for Dappletail to join with the two new kits.

“Welcome back.” Frostfur greeted Dappletail, as she entered the nursery; Thrushpelt and Tansypaw were behind her, each holding a kit between their jaws. Willowpelt gave a small nod in her direction, and Speckletail quickly rose to her paws to help her foster sister to her nest.

“You’re doing a good thing, Dappletail.” The golden tabby purred, pressing her cheek gently against the other’s. She made sure Dappletail was settled, then gestured with her tail for the two toms to bring in the kits. Tansypaw and Thrushpelt laid the kits at her belly, where they eagerly began to nurse.

“I know this is hard for you, sister.” Thrushpelt murmured, “Thank you.” He gently licked the top of her head.

“I’ll catch the fattest squirrel in the forest for you!” Tansypaw promised, “Only the best for my aunt Dappletail.”

“Thank you, Tansypaw.” She murmured, then said, with a sigh, “I’ll need the energy.”

The pair of toms said their goodbyes, then exited the nursery, leaving the three queens and their kits all alone.

“What will you name them?” Greykit chirped, stumbling over the figure of his sleeping sister, just to get closer to Dappletail. Cinderkit shrieked in surprise, jumping to her feet, and leapt closer to her mother, hudding into Willowpelt’s soft fur.

“Mouse-brain!” Cinderkit huffed.

Greykit paid no mind to her sister. “You should name them something fierce! Like Jaguarkit and Cougarkit!”

Dappletail was in no mood to listen to Greykit’s rambling, but decided to humor him, for Willowpelt’s sake. “That’s not a bad idea.” She murmured.

“What about Tawnykit and Stormkit?” Frostfur suggested, her words soft. “In memory of Tawnyspots and Stormtail..”

Dappletail inhaled sharply. “No.” She meowed. “No. These kits are their own cats. I don’t want to force that expectation on them.” Truly? She felt that these kits were not her own.. What was the _point_ of naming them after two cats they had no relation to? “I like your suggestion, Greykit.”

The tortoiseshell she-cat pointed to the spotted tabby molly. “This will be Lynxkit.” She looked to the other kit, a black and white tom; he thrashed at her belly, batting at his sister with his tiny paws. “And he will be Swiftkit.”


End file.
